Always Look on the Bright Side of Life

Sleep is a toss and a turn and a sliver of nonsense beneath the nighttime sky. It is an invitation and a warning like all the best things that you fall into. Yet, it alludes me, despite the hourglasses of currency left behind by the Sandman—each enough to fill a bag, dark and puffy, set to hold beneath the levees of my red, tired eyes.

I woke from nothing. The pain was where I left it, awake and angry, and taunting the bed. The hardest part of the day was putting one foot down and then waiting on the other, for that was where the fury feasted on little piggies like so much roast beef (of which I had none).

Gout, they say, is one of the most painful things that a person can experience. I do not know if that is true, for I have seen suffering that makes me ashamed to mention my own, but this is the pain in my shoes, and I must walk the miles in them.

Note, the medication hasn’t failed me, rather, my body has failed it. It is the work of bigger things, a stomach squeezed shut and an esophagus that no longer cares. They have conspired and denied me the means to keep the gout at bay. They have scorched me like a desert, dry and burning, and slowly covered by salt and sand.

The mounting dehydration works as a trigger, and the foot fires like a gun, each step a ricochet, each footprint a crime scene. I am always limping somewhere.

There is a mirror in the hallway. It is a funhouse, bending my reflection and rendering me a specter, allowing me to view the man that lives in there. He has a wild beard and less pounds than cents, and really no sense to speak of. He is dry-eyed and too skinny, an apparition mocking me, daring me to give up: It is enough, he says. Hope is for the healthy and the well-rested. Sit here and shrivel, your feet are too swollen and the only thirst you’ll quench is in the dreams that escape you. Sit here, and let us watch each other slowly fall and fastly fade. To which I graciously refuse, four letters at a time.

Then we each nod to the other and carry on again. He goes where I know not, and I chase the things of daydreams—for I take what I may have, and there is much to be said for a smile in the sunshine and a warm promise of the morrow.

52 Responses to "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life"

Aw, Whit, I completely understand. I had a breakdown in my doctor’s office last Friday — I had a case of gout myself last week for the second time this year and we don’t know WHY other than “dehydration” which huh okay I drink a gallon of water a day, so… and then I’m having all these other chronic pain skin breakout bizarro symptoms!! Arggh! They took enough blood to keep a mentally disturbed group of Twilight fans stocked for their next shindig — something about autoimmune something or other. AND YET… the smiles in the sunshine certainly make it all more bearable.Here’s to daydreams of healthy living and feeling like ourselves soon enough. Thanks for posting this. Love to you.

You know, you’d THINK that such pain and discomfort would hamper your writing ability… but that’s clearly not the case here. I continue to be amazed at your ability to take words, put them in new orders, and make me feel things.

And of course, sending all the good thoughts I have directly to you, my friend.Didactic Pirate´s last blog post ..How to Take the Off-Ramp

Buddy. I suck at being comforting, unless you are 5 or under, and the fruit of my loins. I haven’t responded much to the news of all your sucky news lately. But I’ve been thinking about you. I wish there was something I could do.

Unrelated: Look at several of us commenting on one another’s blogs! How fun and intimate! We should do this more often. Maybe I’ll post something on mine if I can remember the password.Andy Hinds´s last blog post ..Remember Four and Three Quarters

Dude– gout is like one of the most painful experiences I have ever had. (I had it about 10 years ago, and then last year, a medication I was taking made me have 3 or 4 bouts of it in a 5 month period.

I am feeling for you–

Not sure what your doctor has you taking it for it– but colchicine is the ticket. I ended up buying it in Canada, because of a weird FDA/testing snafu, this drug that has been used for a long time to combat gout is suddenly patented, and 5 times more expensive than it should be. Not so in Canada.

You are too good a man to be carrying all these burdens. But the universe doesn’t give a shit about good, and not because it doesn’t care. So the bad and the hard makes you gooder, as we can all see in your writing and in your eyes when we have the great good fortune to see you in person. Being a better person is kind of a crap door prize, but I learned to love it in my years of woe upon woe. We have to take when we get and from it weave who we want to be, and you, my friend, are winning at that. xoStacy @bklynstacy´s last blog post ..What It Is I Am Working On

Seems like you’ve already got a good number of good people throat punching and ball kicking your ailments, so I’m just going to imagine myself chilling with you in the late afternoon sun, drinking something strong (and hydrating) and maybe smoking something mild (and relaxing). My hope is that you find hope & healing from those who can do that with you in person, and can feel all the good vibes flowing to you from the glowy machines.

Whit, I hate so much that you are going through this. I hated reading this, even though you expressed yourself so beautifully, as always. I’m pissed off on your behalf, because it simply Is. Not. Fair.